I'll Tell My Story
by Corazie
Summary: Someone tells their story. They tell the harsh truth. They talk about all the things that most people think are wrong. They tell it how it is. WARNING: Drink/Drugs/Sex/Eating Disorders.
1. Chapter One

**I'll Tell My Story**

Chapter One

I _think_ it started when the attention stopped.  
I _think_ it started on that day I flied.  
I _think_ it started the day the door was locked  
I _think_ it started when he first cried.  
I _think_ it started when my performance dropped...  
I _think_ it stopped when he had died.

* * *

You may not know this, but he was my best friend. My very best friend.

When we were younger we used to spend weekends at his house or my house, sitting on the floor in the living room, curled up together in a blanket, eating ice-cream in front of the television. It was magical.

When we grew older we started to experiment. Not with each other as people, that would have been wrong, but with alcohol and smoking and drugs. We kept it legal for the first few years, and even near the end we still returned to some things, like Spice and Pondies. Especially me, I love those Pondies, they're snazzy little drops. I'm not too keen on Spice though, they make me such a greedy missus.

We had a large group of friends, friends with brothers and sisters and cousins with connetions. So we were sorted. We had the freedom to try whatever we wanted, as long as we could pay for it. Not really a problem, my parents doted on me. Still do if I am honest.

* * *

"So, any of you saints drink?" _We_ were fifteen when I posed this question to our new group of high school friends.

"This one certainly does." Tony pulled a small hip flask from the pocket of his jacket. Of course. He was the one who was ahead of the times. I mean, he tried _weed_ last month for Christs sake! _We _had tried it last year, but wouldn't tell him. He needed to be first for his ego to survive, and he needed to be first to be a womaniser, and to get Michelle. I don't know why they won't just go out already.

Tony passed the hip flask around and as I took a swig I grinned. "This is kids stuff stupid. Peach Schnapps?! You want Jagermeister mister."

_We_ looked at each other and grinned. One shot and he'd be drunk, two, off his face... Three? Lets not go there. Tony can't hold his drink, not one bit. He'll be pissed from his shared hip flask.

Who do _you_ think this is about? This is my first actual piece of prose for Skins, I've only done poetry so far.


	2. Chapter Two

**I'll Tell My Story**

Chapter Two

I _think_ it started when the attention stopped.  
I _think_ it started on that day I flied.  
I _think_ it started the day the door was locked  
I _think_ it started when he first cried.  
I _think_ it started when my performance dropped...  
I _think_ it stopped when he had died.

* * *

I remember it well.

I was walking through the park next to the canal, a wee bit high off of Pondies. The sun was shining and the sky was blue and I felt so happy. I even started singing and skipping, my arms swinging gently, my pale skirt floating along with me, as light as flower petals in the breeze.

"The sun is shining and the sky is blue, and I feel happy, happy all through!"

A little girl wearing all things pink smiled at me. Her mum pulled her away and glared at me and my happy mouth. I could hear the girl chanting the lyrics as she was dragged along.

I heard a chugging and looked up to see a narrowboat easing it's way from my left hand side.

I like the canal people, they're always ready to talk to me and share with me. We have lots of fun inside when it's raining and outside on the banks when it's not, right until the darkness falls like a blanket and I pull out a torch and walk home.

Anyway, I stopped by a bench and pulled my sandwiches out of my bag. It's a lovely bag, a cream and navy striped tote with a red haired girl lounging accross one side in a pirate style outfit. Nautical. The ducks speeded towards me, treading water at the sight and smell of bread. I looked at them and my grin grew wider. I started ripping the crusts in to small chunks, gathering them in my lap. The crusts apart from the rest of my sandwich, I started to throw them in towards the ducks. The treading became more urgent and I giggled.

"Hello." A masculine voice sounded behind me and I turned around, kneeling on the bench. It was Him, in graphically patterned board shorts and a bright yellow t-shirt, witch chunky trainers and barely showing trainer shorts. I reached over the back on the bench, wrapped my arms around him, and he enveloped me in a close embrace.

Who do you think they are? Leave a review.


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